"We like to believe that by not starting the fight, we're in the right. Oh, how wrong we are?"
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Hollow - adj. having a hole or empty space inside
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Lieutenant Lexa McGarrett has done a lot in the 28 years she's been...
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"RECOVERY"
If you're going through hell, keep going.
- Winston Churchill -
⇉🜛🜞🜛⇇
After they'd bagged Annabel's corpse and the medical examiners took her, I was immediately sent to the closest hospital courtesy of an insistent Aaron Hotchner and a concerned Jody Miller. They'd even assigned Derek to make sure that I went without argument and stayed there until I was given the go-ahead by the doctors to leave. In the ambulance, Derek sat with me and one of the paramedics in the back rather than in the front with the driver.
"You enjoying yourself, agent," I asked, breaking the silence. I had grown to hate the lack of noise since that was what most of my isolation consisted of.
"Don't know if that's what I'd call it," Derek responded. He had yet to look me in the eyes since I'd revealed the identity of the corpse.
"You've been turned into a glorified babysitter. That's gotta be a big blow to your ego," I prodded. If he wasn't going to treat me like a person, then I'd have to get him to. This was one way of doing so.
"That's not it at all," he denied. That caused me to laugh. And then he looked at me. Really looked at me. Not as a victim, but as a person.
"Agent, you have to understand that I've spent the last several hours being treated like a glass figurine. And the weeks before that I was forced to roam the forest and avoid being killed by my fellow captives. So when you refuse to make eye contact or act like I'm just another person, it can be rather irritating," I explained. His expression darkened, but I knew that my words had been rather blunt.
"I'm sorry for that," he said. There it was. The human treatment I needed.
"Words mean nothing if you don't change your actions, agent," I stated. With everything that had happened in my life, even before being kidnapped, words seemed worthless without a change in one's action. I'd been told by my mother that she regretted giving me up. She failed to make me see that though when I learned that she'd kept her son and had a daughter a few years after me.
"Why don't you use my name? You already know it," he questions, curiosity getting the better of him.
"I spent several years working with people who hated using their real names. Part of a security thing, I think. I guess the habit kinda stuck, agent," I answered honestly.
"Seriously, call me Derek," he insisted.
"If you're trying to give me an order, think twice, Derek," I snapped. He seemed taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor. "I just spent several weeks being controlled, so I'm not so keen on it happening again anytime soon."
